


Anointing Life's Eyes

by wook77



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Friendship, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Leaving Feast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-01
Updated: 2007-11-30
Packaged: 2018-10-26 11:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10785753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wook77/pseuds/wook77
Summary: Seamus is determined to live the rest of his life as a Muggle farmer and forget the past, but Neville is determined to make him to remember.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Originally written for ceria_taliesen at the lj comm - hpslashnotsmut. Beta'd by yodels, janicechess and why_me_why_not

_Bitterness imprisons life; love releases it. Bitterness paralyzes life; love empowers it. Bitterness sours life; love sweetens it. Bitterness sickens life; love heals it. Bitterness blinds life; love anoints its eyes. - Harry Emerson Fosdick_

It's a quiet life and one that, ironically enough, suits Seamus. After the Final Battle of Hogwarts, the chaos and the loss and the fear and the death, Seamus had fled to Ireland. Dublin had been too loud, too busy, too chaotic. Shannon had been almost as bad. Limerick had almost suited but not enough. He kept moving: inward, upward, to the shore, to the center. As he'd gone walking through County Roscommon, he'd found this little plot of land for sale.

One look at it - the green fields and the stone wall that looked to have been built long before Cromwell - and Seamus's heart eased, his mind quieted and he felt peace. It'd been a quick sale since the old owner was dead and the nephew didn't want the land anymore. For a moment, Seamus wanted to curse the lad for blasphemy but that blasphemy was benefiting him so he held his tongue, handed over the money and became a farmer.

Now, three years into it, Seamus has finally got on how to farm. The first year, he'd pulled out his wand and, shaking, put it back again. He'd eaten at the pub more often than not. Thankfully, his neighbours had taken pity on him and helped him, teaching him just when and how to raise the crops and shear the sheep. This year is the first he's done everything on his own and though the take isn't as much as he'd hoped for, it's still an impressive enough amount.

Times like now, riding on the tractor with nothing but the sound of the motor and the rolling fields for company, are his favourite. When he needs more than the fields, he has his dog, Finn. When he needs human company, he heads down the pub and raises a pint to whatever footie team might be playing. Talk ranges from sheep to hogs to cows to crops. There's talk about this man's nephew doing well at uni and that one's niece finally getting married to that no-good-layabout what got her pregnant. He feels a part of the community and Seamus basks in that, absorbs it to ease the pain of loss and loneliness.

When he cut ties to the wizarding world, he did so with a knife's edge. The owls from friends went unanswered; the eventual Howlers shredded themselves on his doorstep. His wand lies hidden in the back of a dresser, there should he ever need it but he knows that he won't. Still, it's one of the few things that he can't quite get rid of.

Finn starts barking and Seamus looks over to where the Irish Wolfhound bounds after a rabbit. Shaking his head, Seamus finishes the tilling of the old to feed the new and then turns the tractor towards the barn. As he rides back to the house, his mind is focused on the stew that's been cooking all day and on the way Finn tries to pace the tractor but fails miserably. He's a big dog but a pup still, all heart and no brains. The observation makes Seamus smile and that smile stays on his face as he enters the house.

"Got a good day's work done today. Field's are ready for next year's planting. Going to have Frankie from up the way come and take a look, though, just in case I forgot something like last year. I'm getting on to this, though, y'have to admit, yeah?" A windchime sings under the light breeze. Seamus takes his cap off and sets it on the small rack in the corner. He sheds his coat and then opens the door for Finn. "The dog was a good idea, thanks for it."

Breathing deeply, he heads in to the kitchen, not waiting for a response. The stew's ready and he gives it another stir before pulling out a loaf of brown bread and slicing off a large piece. As he eats, he plans out his next day and what all he'll need to get done. There's the feedings in the morning and the shed's seen better days. The rock wall that he fell in love with needs a bit of repairing, as well. He'll get it all done when it's meant to get done.

That's another thing he's learned out here. Things get done when things get done. He can fight against fate all he wants but, in the end, the bitch is the one with the last laugh. He's fortune's fool and - now that he knows it, lives with it, accepts it - he's fine with it.

As he heads to bed and a book, he calls out, "Good night, Dean. See you in the morning."

~~**~~

The lane is much longer than Neville expects. For all the chill in the air, he's far too warm and he thinks that it probably has more to do with the exertion than his sweater and robes. He'd forgotten - an honest mistake, as far as he's concerned - that Muggles don't wear robes. The lady at the inn had only rolled her eyes at him, though, so he has to be close to Muggle, right? Right, he decides as he trundles further down the lane. He stumbles on a rock and barely holds back a curse. It's tempting, far far too tempting, to start muttering to himself about exactly what he's doing and why he's doing it and how everyone had better appreciate this or he'll make them.

The area is beautiful; he can't fault that. It looks a bit like a postcard what with the way the fields stretch into the distance, all emerald greens and dark chocolate browns. Rock walls dot the landscape and meander as they will. The lane he's on is well-packed dirt but Neville can't help looking to see if the sheep from a field over might've left anything in the road. Yet again, he wishes he could've taken a Portkey, because beautiful scenery or not, he's hot and tired and miserable.

If it wasn't for…he gives a yelp as a giant animal leaps over a rock wall. Stumbling backwards, over the rock in the lane, he falls on his arse. The animal continues bounding over until he's standing over Neville. When he looks up, he sees that it's not a pony or any sort of wolf, at all. Instead, it's the largest dog he's seen other than Fang. Rather than the bulk and lumbering strength of the boarhound, however, this one is all lean sinew and grace. It's also extremely friendly as it nudges him with his nose, snuffling and licking.

"Off, beast, off. Where did you come from anyway?" Neville reaches a hand out and pats the dog on its giant snout and then starts to push off the ground.

"Finn, for the love of Mary, where the fuck are ye? Christ, sodding dog. More trouble 'n'y're worth. Fuck's sake, _Finn_!" Neville looks from the dog to the rock wall where the voice is coming from and back to the dog.

"Your name's Finn?" The dog leans in and licks Neville's face one last time. "Your owner doesn't sound too happy with you. You might want to go back before you get in more trouble."

The dog doesn't budge, even when Neville pushes on it with one arm while the other keeps him upright. "Go on, then, you'll get in trouble. Be a good dog now and go." He punctuates each word with a tentative pat on the dog's muzzle.

"Fuck's sake, Finn, get back here. _Come_ , you mangy mutt!" The voice sounds even more irate and upset and Neville pushes against the dog's chest. Finn looks a bit mournful but when another curse word comes, he gives Neville one last lick and then bounds back over the wall. Shaking his head, Neville pushes himself off the ground, swipes a hand down his robes and then looks around. There's no one in sight so he pulls out his wand and quickly spells the rest of the dirt away. The blow to his pride for getting knocked over by a dog - a dog the size of a pony, he mentally corrects himself - isn't quite as easy to dismiss.

As he walks the rest of the way to the house he can now see in the distance, Neville can hear Ron's teasing voice in his ear going on about how Neville hasn't grown out of his klutziness yet and he can hear Ginny telling Ron to shut his gob before she shuts it for him. Hermione would be rattling on about whatever sort of beast it was while Harry would've just offered him a hand to help him up.

The richness of those friendships reminds him of exactly why he's here, approaching this tiny house outside the village of Tarmonbarry.

~~**~~

Seamus has just sat down to his stew, reheated from yesterday's batch, when there's a knock on his door. Hoping that it's Frankie McCormack from up the lane, he goes to answer with a glare tossed over his shoulder. "I'm watching you, Finn. You eat my stew and that's it, you'll be out in the barn the rest o' the night."

He puts a smile on his face, grateful for the help even if it comes at the loss of his meal to Finn. Opening the door, he starts to greet Frankie when he realises that it isn't Frankie at all. His smile melts off his face as memories swamp him and he shuts the door in Neville's face. His knees give way and he slides to the floor, resting the back of his head against the door.

He'd not been expecting that. Hadn't been expecting anyone, really, not with the way that he'd returned their owls and ignored the pleading. No one was to have known where he'd gone and he thought for certain that he'd made sure of that. His hands are still shaking and he jumps when there's a crack and Neville appears before him.

"Didn't think that would work. Where're your wards?" Neville slides his wand into his pocket and Seamus doesn't quite know how to respond. He's not ready for this. Fuck's sake, he's not ready at all.

Thankfully, he's saved by Finn, who comes bounding from the kitchen and slides across the wooden floors, bunching up the runner as he goes, and taps the back of Neville's knees. They both fall to a heap on the floor though the dog comes out on top. As Finn mauls Neville with licks and nudges, Seamus has a bit of time to collect his thoughts and figure out how he's going to respond.

"So this's where you're from? You're a big one, aren't you? What sort of dog is this?" Seamus doesn't answer him; instead, he pulls his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around them. "Seamus?"

It's obvious that Neville's not going to leave without some sort of response from Seamus. He whispers, "What're you doing here?"

"Looking for you, of course." Neville's tone makes it patently obvious that Seamus should've already known the answer to that question.

"But why?" His voice's still a whisper.

"Serious?" Seamus finally looks up at the question and nods. Neville looks gobsmacked. "You disappear for three years and you don't think anyone's going to come looking for you? We've been looking for you this whole time. Finally had someone say that they thought they saw you down at a pub in town here. Since Hogwarts is out of session, I volunteered to come look for you. We've been taking turns, Ron, Harry, Hermione and me."

Seamus still doesn't quite understand why. He'd made it obvious that he hadn't wanted a thing to do with them. Standing, he opens the door and Finn shoots out before gamboling back to sit by the step. "You've found me so you can tell 'em that I'm fine. Good day to you."

"But what?" Neville's still on the floor and staring up at him.

"'M fine. Don't be stopping by again, yeah? If I'd wanted company, I would've sent an owl or something." Seamus's tone hardens and he watches the confusion spread across Neville's face. Finn cries in the doorway.

"What?"

"Not now, Nev, please? Didn't want to be found. I've moved on and I expected that the rest of you would've, as well. Tis sorry I am for the rudeness, but I was just sitting down to a meal so you'll need to be leaving." Seamus gestures towards the door once more.

"Wait, what? I don't understand." Neville finally pushes himself off the floor and Seamus nods his head and then gestures. "Alright, so I'll stop by when you're not eating."

"Not necessary, yeah?" Seamus watches Neville walk out the door and then he waves at Finn. "Come on, Finn, into the house with ye."

The dog gives a whine as he watches Neville start down the dirt lane but comes back into the house. After shutting the door, Seamus goes back to his stew but he's lost his appetite and it's cold, besides. He pours it into Finn's dish and then makes his way to his bedroom.

His duvet makes a nice cocoon around him as he curls into a ball on the mattress. A sound alerts him and he rolls over and smiles sadly. "Can you believe that Nev stopped by just like that? Acting like I wanted to be found, it's such shite, isn't it? If we'd wanted to be found, we would've talked to 'em. Instead, he just prances in, pleased as punch that he found me. Like we were hiding from him or something. We're here; we've post and the rest."

He doesn't wait for a response before punching his pillow and readjusting it. "Fuck's sake, Dean, I didn't know what to say to him. He was just so happy to be here, Apparated right into the house, can you believe the nerve?

"Fucking arse," he says but there's no heat in it. They've too much history together for Seamus to completely turn on Nev. "He's gone though, made sure of that."

The breeze picks up and the windchimes hanging in the windows tinkle merrily. Seamus finally falls asleep. He dreams of Hogwarts and the Final Battle.

~~**~~

After his icy reception yesterday - completely unexpected and confusing to him - Neville isn't sure what sort of reception he's going to receive today. Still, he Apparates to just outside of Seamus's house. A quick look around tells him that Finn, the beast that he still doesn't know the breed of, isn't around and Neville breathes a sigh of relief. He likes the animal but Finn sort of reminds him of Care of Magical Creatures, for some reason. Still, he's friendly enough - unlike the Skrewts or Hippogriffs or the rest of Hagrid's 'wee beasties'.

He knocks on the door and there's no response. Another knock and still no response. Deciding to seize the day - after all, he didn't come all the way from Scotland just to be put off by one unexpected let-down - Neville walks around back of the house. He can see the order and smiles at it. It's so different from the way that Seamus had been at Hogwarts. Seamus was ridiculously messy during school. His possessions would end up in whatever trunk was nearest when Seamus decided he was done with whatever. Neville couldn't remember how many times he'd open his trunk to find Seamus's pants and shoes, let alone his books and papers, in his own trunk or spread on his bed. There'd be a tussle when Neville demanded that Seamus remove his belongings. He'd never have guessed that he'd look back to those moments with fondness.

The neatness is in direct juxtaposition to the old Seamus and the smile on Neville's face fades as he realises that it's another piece of the puzzle of how much Seamus has changed. From indulgent humour to sad longing in a few seconds, his mood doesn't improve as he approaches the barn.

"Alo? Anyone?" He calls into the dark cavern of the barn. There's no answer but that doesn't deter Neville. If he can deal with recalcitrant First Years trying to get out of doing their homework, he can deal with one Seamus Finnigan.

He wanders into the barn and his eyes finally adjust to the dim light to see that there are a few sheep in the corner and some of the cleanest tools he's ever seen. With absolutely no idea what any of the various gadgets do, he pokes and prods at them, picking some up and weighing them while playing with others. They're all sorts of shapes and sizes. He's completely fascinated with them. So fascinated, in fact, that he doesn't hear Seamus coming up behind him.

"Great Merlin's balls!" He shouts as the scythe is taken from his hands in mid-swing.

"Going t'hurt someone with that, the way you're going." It's said as if they're engaged in a light conversation but Neville knows Seamus too well to believe that.

"Figured you wouldn't be sitting down for a meal right now so I thought I'd come earlier. Thought we could maybe get off on a better footing or something since I didn't exactly Apparate into your home invited and I did interrupt your meal and all. Plus your dog's, it is a dog, right?" Neville interrupts himself and then laughs. "Remember those giant beasts that Hagrid had in Care of Magical Creatures? That's what your dog reminds me of, one of those great big things. You never did say what sort of dog he was, you know."

"I'm aware of that. What're you doing back here, Nev?" Seamus hangs the scythe back on the hook and then goes to do whatever it is he'd been coming in to the barn to do. Neville has no clue how one goes about farming the Muggle way but it's fascinating to watch as Seamus fiddles about with something.

"I'm here to talk to you, of course. We worry about you; you just sort of disappeared and no one could find you after we buried the dead." If Neville could, he would snatch those last words back out of the air. The stricken look Seamus turns on him sours his stomach. Nev's forgotten who all they buried and he realises that he's done more than stick his foot in his mouth.

Seamus stalks over to him and leans in as close as he can and then hisses, "You think I fucking care? You think I do? I don't want a fucking thing to do with any of you. Not a single fucking one of you. Gryffindors were supposed to be loyal, weren't they? Fucking loyalty is all we ever asked and you were too busy playing the hero to be loyal. Fuck off, Nev. For the sake of the years, fuck off before we don't have any happy memories left."

With that and before Neville can react, Seamus walks out of the barn without a backwards glance. It's only when Finn whines that Neville realises that he's been standing there with his mouth hanging open in a barn. He sits down on the small stool. Finn trots over and pushes his head under Neville's hand.

As much as he'd like to pretend ignorance, he knows exactly where that vitriol came from. He hasn't a clue where to go from here so instead, he rubs Finn's head and stays where he's at.


	2. Chapter 2

Seamus's ire and rage fuel his steps into the house. The fire of it burns deep in his gut as he slams the door and then it abruptly leaves him, his knees once more buckling and sending him to the floor. How dare Neville act like Seamus would greet him like a returning hero when he'd let how many die? Friends that were deserving of protection. People like Creevey, who shouldn't have been there in the first place. Yet Neville's lauded as a hero for lopping off the head of a snake while good people died defending others.

"Can you believe it? Breezes in here as if he'd be welcome, fucking Neville," Seamus curses and kicks the leg of a table. "Can't believe the gall. Christ, what was he thinking?"

Shaking his head, Seamus heads into the kitchen, continuing speaking as he goes, "Enough about him. Fucking arse. Going to serve the roast. If Finn's wanting some, he'll just have to come round back, right? Right."

The roast smells divine and Seamus suppresses the rest of the emotions that Neville's visit brought. Just because it's unexpected, again, doesn't mean that Seamus isn't more than able to cope with it. He'll ignore Nev just like he's ignored them all for years and Nev'll go away. That'll be that. He'll be back to himself and Finn and Dean. The thought has his heart tightening again and he shakes it off, going back to the oven to pull the roast out.

"Don't be taking his side; I know you're wanting to. You don't have to say a sodding word, known each other how long now? I know what you're going to say and I won't hear it. I don't believe him, not at all. I was there and you weren't. You were in the castle and I was there when he did it. I saw the whole fecking thing and you're an arse if you think that he didn't play on it later. Neville's sure to have gotten the notoriety just like Potter did all those years ago." As he speaks, he waves the knife around, punctuating his rant with wild brandishes before going back to slicing. The windchimes dance but Seamus just talks over them, "I know I said I believed Har-- Potter but you should've seen him at the funerals, playing it up for the cameras and the reporters. Acting the mourner in public but going about like nothing ever happened in private. They're all a bunch of hypocrites and I'm not much caring if you think I'm full of it or not."

He sits at the table and takes a bite of the meat. "That dog's missing out, this roast is excellent, Dean. You should come have a bite. It's pretty tender. I'm farming and I'm cooking. What would mam think of that, I wonder?"

After he finishes, he cleans the mess and leaves the back door slightly cracked, just in case Finn ever decides to come back. Either he'll be back all on his own or he'll be getting a call from Mary Margaret down at the pub that Finn has, yet again, slipped in for some bangers and mash.

As he passes the sitting room, he finishes his diatribe, "It's their fault, mate. Their fault and I'm not forgiving 'em for it."

~~**~~

As Neville walks back to town, he's grateful for Finn's company. The dog's entertaining and keeps Neville's mind from the now two confrontations with Seamus. This wasn't going at all like he'd expected. He'd thought that maybe Seamus wasn't aware that they were looking for him. That or maybe his owls had gotten lost. Maybe there'd been Death Eaters or something? Anything but this icy hatred that permeates Seamus and makes Neville's heart twist. He hasn't a clue what to tell any of the rest. Even Lavender and Parvati, on the rare occasions he sees them, worry over Seamus.

Seamus was the great mystery of their group. He'd just disappeared after Dean's funeral and no one had heard from him since. They'd tried, Neville probably hardest of all of them, but they'd not found a trace of him. Eventually, the rest had slowly given up, figuring that Seamus hadn't wanted to contact them but Neville had believed differently, thought that there had to be a reason why they couldn't find him.

After their time at Hogwarts that last year, Neville knows Seamus better than the rest. Neville knows how fiercely loyal and devoted he is and it's hard to believe that that loyalty and devotion would just disappear in a moment. He'd just walked away without a backwards glance.

That's the part that chafes. Seamus hadn't said goodbye, at the very least. They'd defended one another, fought and protected, and to go from that to absolute nothingness in the space of a few weeks without any sort of explanation? Neville hadn't believed it. Truth be told, he still doesn't believe it.

As Finn bumps his hip for attention; Neville realises that perhaps the dog isn't quite as successful at keeping Nev's attention away from Seamus as he'd thought. A couple of pats and the dog gambols off after a hare. Neville watches as he gives chase for a bit and then returns without anything to show for it. His tongue lolls to the side, a self-satisfied grin on his face. It makes Neville smile.

"Seamus's going to be mad that you disappeared, you know that, right?" Finn barks and Neville shakes his head. "It's on your head, then. Hope the landlady lets you stay; otherwise, I have no idea what I'm going to do with you."

Another bark and then the rest of the journey is spent in silence. By the time he reaches town, Neville is, once more, hot and sweaty. Finn, on the other hand, seems energized and bounds off towards a pub. _Crosby's_ , the sign declares it and Neville shrugs before entering. Finn trots in behind.

As he tries to shoo the beast out the door, one of the patrons shouts, "Is that Finn? Aye, it is. Finn, m'boy, come have a bit to eat!"

The dog leaves Neville standing with the door and his mouth hanging open. He shouldn't be surprised that an animal's allowed in the pub. Aberforth had his goat in the pub at all times, after all. He squashes the memories of hiding in the Room of Requirement with Seamus and the rest, though. Squashes it deep down so that he can concentrate on the now and the fact that the cold's blowing through the open door.

"Come on in, haven't seen you about the village. Could I get you a pint?" A woman comes out of the back carrying a tray of food. His mouth waters at the smells.

"Um, could I have a, err, that is," he stumbles over ordering a Muggle drink. He looks about and sees a few signs for a variety of drinks and picks one at random, "A Harp's, maybe? Or a Guinness?"

"Not too sure about them, are you? How about I pick for you? Maybe something to eat as well? You're looking hungry." She slaps a wandering hand as she sets food down but then kisses the top of the old man's head. "Be careful with that hand, Mister Keenan or you'll be eating left-handed instead."

Neville sits at a table and Finn wanders back over, curling around his chair. The woman grins and comes over to give Finn a pat.

"And just where's your master? Come into town on your own, then? I'll be ringing Seamus, don't think I won't. Naughty dog, you are, very naughty indeed. I'm half tempted not to bring you something while you wait for Seamus to come for you." She looks up at Neville and winks. "Sorry about this mongrel, he's a regular here, though. I'll get him out of your way, if you're wanting."

"Actually, he sort of came in to town with me." The woman's expression turns assessing at that and Neville hastens to continue. "I'm a friend of Seamus's. Well, sort of. That is, I used to be. We went to school together."

"Ah, that'd explain Finn, then. I'll be back with your drink and some food. None for you, though, mister." The last is said with a wink towards Finn. With that, the woman heads back towards the kitchen but she turns and gives Neville another couple of looks.

Finn's tail taps on the floor rhythmically while Neville looks around, seeing the way that the villagers clump together, talking about their families or their work. There's a good mix of young and old, farmers and shopkeepers. There's music in the background, leeching out from the kitchen, while a telly runs some sort of footie match. The waitress is back quickly with a pint of an amber ale.

"Try this, you'll like it. You don't strike me as much of a drinker," she says as she sets it down in front of him. She slides into the seat next to him, bumping Finn's head out of the way as she maneuvers the chair.

"Not much of one, no. Don't have much time for it, really." Neville gingerly picks up the drink and takes a sip. It tastes better than he'd expected and he smiles his thanks.

"And what is it that you do that doesn't leave you much time for a night out at the pub?" She rests her head on her hand, staring at him. He's slightly uncomfortable under that gaze as it feels like she's trying to see into his soul or some such.

"I'm a teacher at a, err, special school." She looks like she's about to ask another question so he hastens to explain, "I teach plants and such. In Scotland. Actually, at the same school that Seamus and I went to."

"Ah, a teacher. You have the look about you. So you've known Seamus awhile, then?"

"Yeah, since we were eleven until about three years ago. A bit longer, I guess, but yeah, about three years ago, we lost contact." It's the politest way he can think to explain the abrupt severance of their friendship. _And more_ , a little voice whispers in the back of his head and he tamps that down as well. It's not important, not in the large scope of things.

"So you'll be knowing Dean, as well?" The question is asked so innocently that Neville knows that she knows more than she's letting on. It's said with a flutter of lashes and an intense gaze all paired up together.

"I knew Dean, yeah. All of us went to school together." Neville doesn't know what she's asking or wanting with her questions. He suddenly feels like he's standing in the middle of a pile of quicksand and he's been sinking without realising it. She's led him into a trap.

"Knew him?"

"Yeah, Dean, err, that is, Dean's dea-err, that is yeah, I knew him."

"It isn't my place to tell anyone this but as you're knowing Seamus all those years and you came all the way over here to talk to him, I'll tell you that I worry over him. Every year, he comes into the pub, sits in the corner and drinks himself until he doesn't know which way's up or down. Only drinks like that once a year and there's no helping him. Every June, it is, and he'll just sit there until I take him home. Once he's there, he'll talk about Dean and…" Her voice trails off and Neville can only imagine what Seamus says or talks about.

"So you know Dean's dead, then?" he asks quietly.

"I thought so, yeah, but the way Seamus talks, well, I wasn't sure. Doesn't really drink except for that one day in June. He says other things, too, barmy things." She's about to continue when there's a bellow from the kitchen and she waggles a finger. "Just a minute and I'll have your food and we'll have a talk."

Neville looks around but doesn't see anyone else paying a whit of attention to them. The woman hustles out of the kitchen with a tray loaded with food that smells so good that his stomach growls in anticipation. There're three plates on the tray and she sets one down to the floor before sitting with him once more.

"I don't think I asked you your name."

"Neville, it's Neville Longbottom."

"Oh." And there's a wealth of meaning in that exhalation. Neville knows, just from that sound, that Seamus's 'barmy' things include him in there somewhere. He's suddenly not very hungry but he keeps eating to be polite. His Gran would box his ears if he were rude. She might be over in England but he still believes that she has powers that extend to anywhere in the world when it comes to Neville.

"So he's talked about me, then?"

"Aye, a bit. Not much, y'ken? I don't much care that he's, well, that he's," her voice lowers to a whisper as she looks around the pub, "that he's _gay_ , but others might so I've kept it to meself."

"Oh, right," Neville says as if he understands when he doesn't at all. What does being gay have to do with … oh, right. Neville remembers now. It'd been a small thing, not that it was forgettable. It wasn't, isn't forgettable. It's just one of those things that Neville's kept pushed deep down so that it doesn't hurt, doesn't twist the feelings further and meaner.

_Neville sat by the fire, wondering just how it was that he'd be able to keep everyone afloat and safe. He had Aberforth fighting him every time they needed supplies out there and Seamus in here fighting him. He wouldn't get the whisky that Seamus wanted, no matter how many times he asked. It was a crutch, a crutch and a cliché and Neville wasn't going to be a part of it._

_It was hard to deny Seamus, extremely hard considering how much pain he was in. Neville can still taste the acrid taste of fear from when he'd found Seamus lying bloody and broken on the ground. The light flutter of a pulse under his fingers still haunts him. He wasn't ever very far from Seamus, not in those first weeks after Parvati and he had pulled Seamus away from Crabbe and Goyle. Seamus's sleep was tormented and, sometimes, it was only Neville muttering nonsense at him that soothed him back into sleep._

_Now, though, weeks on, Seamus's ribs were still bothering him and he still had problems sleeping. A moan from Seamus echoed in the darkness and stillness of the night so Neville walked over to where Seamus struggled to get comfortable in the hammock._

_"Lie still," he commanded in a soft voice so he wouldn't disturb the others._

_"Can't get comfortable," Seamus admitted. Neville heard the tortured pride in that voice, the way that Seamus didn't want to admit the weakness. He was quite sure that the only reason Seamus admitted it was because Neville had already seen him in worse straits._

_"I know, here, this'll help." Neville rummaged around until he found a pot that Aberforth had grudgingly delivered a couple of days ago. "Take your shirt off."_

_"You're just after a gander of my chest, I know your sort," Seamus said with a leer but Neville knew it was forced. Staring until Seamus reached for the bottom of the shirt, he helped remove it. The mottled greens, blues, yellows and purples were ugly, even in the wavering light given off from the fireplace. Neville didn't know it but this moment was when things changed between them._

_His hands were gentle as they rubbed the salve into Seamus's skin, swiping across his chest, down over his stomach and then around to his back. The back was awkward to reach and Neville leaned in so he could get to the center. He turned his head and realised how very close their faces were. As the observation passed through his mind -_ I could kiss him so easily right now _\- they were kissing already. Neville didn't know which one moved first, whether it was him or Seamus, but it didn't matter as it felt so good. Seamus was warm under his hands and lips, warm against his tongue._

Michael Corner muttered in his sleep and they pulled back abruptly. Each put a hand on their respective lips and Seamus whispered, "Dean…"

"Just because you're missing Dean is no reason to kiss me," Neville responded.

Neville regrets saying it now, simply because of what came after. If he'd known that Dean wouldn't make it, that Seamus wouldn't have more than a brief hug and a few snatched glances while the battle raged, he wouldn't have been so callous about their relationship.

"Dean and him, they were close, best mates and all. There was more but they kept it between them. Our last year at school, there were some things that happened that kept them apart. Before they could really get back together, well, things happened." Neville keeps his voice quiet and tries to not give everything away. He still respects Seamus's privacy, after all, and between that and the Statute of Secrecy, he's not going to discuss the wizarding world with a Muggle.

"No charge for the meal or the drink. You can leave Finn here, if you'd like. Lottie at the inn isn't so fond of him and Seamus'll be in to get him by the by. Give him time, he's stubborn but you'd be knowing that, better than I do." With that admonishment, the waitress gathers up the empty plates and heads back towards the kitchen once more.

"Yeah, I know that," he whispers and touches his lips before finishing his pint.


	3. Chapter 3

A week goes by and Seamus starts to relax. He knows Neville's still in town, he's heard all about his visits to the pub and such from Mary Margaret. She's a good lass but he's not interested in hearing about how polite Neville is, doesn't care that he's teaching 'plants and such' at their school, doesn't care that Neville's moved on from the war while he's stuck with these gaping wounds that won't close no matter how hard he tries to force them.

Finn keeps looking towards town and Seamus doesn't care, refuses to wander in for a pint and friendly conversation. He won't do it while Neville's wandering about, dammit, no matter how many times Finn encourages him. The farm's never looked better, though, so maybe there's a hint of a silver lining to the way that Finn's been badgering him.

If he can just wait it out a bit longer, Neville'll have to go back to Hogwarts and teaching Herbology and that'll be that. He'll be blissfully alone again. Just another week or so, that's all it'll take. If only Neville would abide by this, though, because he's currently standing at the front door while Seamus stands behind the door with Finn whining and shooting him suspicious looks. It's only when it starts raining that Seamus can't hold out any longer.

"Come on, then, but don't be expecting anything else from me. You'd be smarter to just head back into town," he says as he opens the door. Sodding stupid Neville for not even casting a drying charm or something as he stood in the rain waiting for Seamus to open the door.

"Thanks, appreciate it," Neville says evenly. Seamus rolls his eyes and heads in to the kitchen where he's got dinner almost ready. His mam would kill him if he didn't at least offer a bit to eat. Still, he hesitates over it. When he turns around, Neville's right there, dripping wet with his wand out.

The tingle of magic in the air, that long forgotten sensation, makes him cringe. As the words of the drying charm penetrate the fog, Seamus collapses to the ground. He's avoided magic since he left. It'd failed him, hadn't it? It'd failed and left him alone with only a portrait to talk to and that avoidance and distrust had turned into fear and hate.

It's a small charm but it still breaks him enough that he hugs his knees to his chest there in the kitchen and weeps. He forgets that Neville's in the house, forgets everything but that which he'd tried to avoid for all these years. He'd fought in a war, attacked and killed another human, lost his best friend and first love. He'd lost everything by the time he was nineteen.

_He'd lost everything._ He starts rocking as that sentence becomes a mantra in his head. That one little spell makes him confront the reality of the past nd he curses them all: Harry being willing to save Malfoy but not Dean, Harry for going off to die and coming back, Ron for protecting Hermione when he should've been protecting everyone, Hermione for worrying over Harry and not anyone else. He curses Neville for his bravado.

He curses himself for running off with Luna and Ernie instead of staying with Dean. Seamus still doesn't quite know what possessed him to head into the woods the way he had instead of staying in the castle. If he'd known that Dean was duelling Dolohov, that the body-bind wouldn't hold and that Dolohov would rise like Dracula in those films he'd watched as a kid, that Dolohov would hit Dean with an _Avada Kedavra_ , Seamus wouldn't have. He'd've been there, dammit, been there and gotten in his own curse before Dolohov could.

That way he wouldn't be left alone, left without Dean. He wouldn't have had to watch Hermione comfort Ron, hugging him as they lowered Fred into the ground. He wouldn't have had to watch the way that Ginny patted Harry on the shoulder or held him around the waist as they buried Professor Lupin and his wife.

He wouldn't have had to stand alone as Dean disappeared into the cold unfeeling earth, the wind whistling through the trees and singing a mournful song while the sun shone and reflected off the lake. He wouldn't have been alone - lost and confused - while he looked anywhere but at the casket, instead focusing on how beautiful a day it was and how much Dean would've wanted to paint it because of the sheer beauty of the moment, regardless of the circumstance.

That's the crux of the matter, the reason that Seamus fled back to Ireland. He'd barely waited for the last of the funerals - Colin's that had Lavender in a veil comforting Parvati while Dennis stood to the side, flanked by his parents - before he'd grabbed what would fit into a rucksack and took the first Portkey he could get.

"Seamus?" The voice is muffled compared to the roar of grief in his ears.

"I'm not ready for this," he whispers and then realises that he's sitting in the middle of the kitchen with watery sunlight just starting to shine through the windows. He'd lost track of time. The scent of the roast in the oven tells him that he hasn't burnt it so it couldn't have been too long.

"Seamus, I'm so sorry," Neville says and then arms come around him, holding him close. Seamus wants to pull away, get as far from Neville as he can. It's just that it's been years since he's been touched, _held_ and it's Neville doing it. Neville, the one that protected him, soothed him, comforted him. He stays stiff, though, refusing to relax into that hold.

"Why'd you have to come? I was fine." It's another whisper and the arms tighten just a bit.

"Did you think we wouldn't wonder where you were? You just disappeared without a word and it hurt. I didn't know if maybe you hated me -- us -- and I couldn't stand not knowing." They're both whispering and it strikes Seamus as funny. They're in his house, the only ones here other than Finn, and they're whispering like they're in church or class or something.

"He's gone, Nev, just gone. I didn't even get a chance to tell him about…" Seamus isn't at all sure how to put it, to bring up that quick kiss that he'd wanted so much but hadn't, at the same time. Seamus is just completely mixed up messed up and he can't figure out what's going on or how they got there except that Neville cast a stupid drying charm and he had a breakdown.

"About?"

"About the way I kissed you. I don't know how he'd feel about it. I didn't get to tell him that I loved him and I didn't get to help him. I left him to fend for himself. We all left him and ain't no way that he would've been able to really win out against the likes of Dolohov. Christ, I left him to die alone and all I could think about was the way that I'd betrayed him without telling him. I promised I'd wait, you know? I told him that he was it for me and then I go and kiss you while he's suffering God knows what." Seamus pauses and then wipes a hand across his eyes. "Christ."

"Dean loved you, Seamus, you know that. You showed me his owls, remember? He loved you and that's that. He would've been alright with a small kiss that only happened because of the moment. Hell, he probably would've kissed me and then told you that you both were even and could you please get on with it?" Seamus swipes at his eyes again as Neville talks. It's almost like the times when he'd been in so much pain he couldn't sleep, the timbre of Neville's voice a hum that appeals and soothes. His heart slows almost back to normal and the tightness in his chest eases enough that he starts to breathe naturally.

"But what about the way I left him? I should've stuck close and not run off like I did. I knew they were going into Hogwarts after Harry and so did Dean. That's why he stayed there, after all."

"You went where you thought you were needed and he went where he was needed. Things happen, is all. We didn't leave him and we didn't betray him. Things happen, is all." It's almost like Neville's trying to justify it to himself with the way that he keeps repeating that one sentence. The knowledge that Neville might just blame himself helps; Seamus relaxes back against Neville's chest.

"I talk to him." Seamus hadn't meant to admit it. If he could, he'd snatch the admission back but Neville's already tightening his arms even further, until Seamus is cocooned in heat and security.

"I know you do. Sometimes, I do, too," Neville admits with a light puff of breath across Seamus's ear.

"It hurts."

"I know."

The conversation dies off while they sit there, entwined together, comforting and being comforted. The only interruption to the silence is the happy rings of the windchimes in the window. Eventually, the roast smells done and Seamus stirs. If he doesn't remove it now, it'll burn. Besides, it'll take his mind off the pain in his heart and soul. The gaping wound is raw and bloody and he needs the distraction. He's still reluctant to pull away but he does it all the same.

They both go through the motions of eating and there isn't much conversation. Even Finn is fairly withdrawn. After they're done, Seamus leaves the house to go to the barn and take care of the last of the chores before coming back in to find his kitchen spotless. He nods to Neville and then goes into the sitting room with Dean's portrait, not caring if Neville follows or not.

Once there, he stares at the portrait and isn't at all sure what he wants to say or if he's going to say anything at all. It's not a very good portrait; Dean had painted it that summer before he'd gone into hiding. He'd given it to his mum for safekeeping and, once he'd passed, Dean's mum had gifted it to Seamus. Looking at it, it's obvious that it'd been painted in a hurry but Seamus doesn't see any of that. Instead, all he sees is the way that Dean grins out from the unmoving canvas, looking just beyond Seamus to the rolling fields.

Seamus reaches a trembling hand up to trace the line of Dean's cheek, down his face and across his lips. The expression doesn't change but Seamus can still feel it, anticipate what Dean would say if he were there. Dean'd tell him to get over it already, that life was there for them to live and that Seamus's been hiding here in Ireland, not healing. He'd thank Neville for coming to push Seamus out of his self-imposed exile. Seamus knows this just like he knows that the sky is blue and the grass is green.

When he finally looks away from the portrait, he sees Neville in the doorway. "You're more than welcome to the couch -- don't have a spare bed or anything. I've chores in the morning."

He walks through the door, shoulder brushing across Neville's, and then heads to his bedroom where he falls into a deep sleep. For the first time in three years, his dreams are filled with memories of that summer before Dean went into hiding.

~~**~~

Neville dreams of Hogwarts and the Final Battle as he sleeps on the lumpy couch. Visions of running about -- the explosions and dust obscuring his sight as he searches for everyone he knows and cares about -- haunt his sleep. He watches as Lavender is mauled by Greyback. He sees the way that Dolohov runs through the room and exits through the main doors of Hogwarts and he hears the screams of pain and loss behind the fleeing figure. He starts down the steps but then there's so much going on outside. He's torn between running off to find out who's dead and saving others.

The rest of the battle passes in a blur, flashes of memory -- _flash_ grabbing the sword _flash_ the snake's severed head writhing on the ground _flash_ Voldemort dead on the ground _flash_ sitting in the Great Hall regaling everyone with the tales of his victories _flash_ Seamus falling to the ground next to Dean's body.

When he wakes in a cold sweat, Seamus's lost and haunted eyes stay with him. The sun's almost started to peek over the horizon and he decides that tea would help with the shakes and dreams. He raids the pantry and the fridge until he assembles the fixings for breakfast. Once they're all laid out nice and neat, he's at a loss, though. After Seamus's reaction to the magic yesterday, he's not at all sure that he should use magic to cook but he doesn't know how to cook any other way. With a sigh and a covert look around, he pulls out his wand and starts the food cooking.

"You didn't have to cook," Seamus says from the doorway and Neville jumps, sending the pan with the bacon in it flying. He's lucky that it lands on another part of the cooker and not on the floor. Studiously not looking at Seamus, he sends the pan and the bacon back to the proper spot.

"Least I could do. The water should be hot for tea, if you'd like." Neville keeps his voice even and modulated.

"Yeah? Thanks. You'll make someone a good wife, someday." Seamus's voice is strained but there's a bit of the old Seamus there, the one with a joke and an easy camaraderie, so Neville seizes on it instead of the blocks between them.

"Don't have the right equipment for it, I'm afraid." He pats his flat chest and stomach.

"Can see that, doesn't mean that you won't be a good little wife. I'll withhold judgment, though, until I taste whatever it is that your… wand's making. Gotta go take care of some things, back in a bit." With that, Seamus walks out the door and Finn trots after him.

Neville relaxes after Seamus leaves. That'd gone better than he'd thought it would. It still feels like they're strangers and that's not really how Neville thinks of them. They've shared too much - years of absence or not - and Neville wants them back how they were. He misses teasing with Seamus, misses knowing that Seamus is there to protect him or help him.

That last year at Hogwarts, it'd been them against the world, really. Neville might've lead the group but Seamus spurred him on, encouraged him and dared him, pushed him to further and cheekier deeds. They'd bolstered one another up there alone in the Gryffindor Tower.

Neville shakes his head and reminds himself that it could be worse. Seamus could've refused to see him yesterday, could've been the defensive and angry prick that he'd been before. _Count the blessings_ , he reminds himself. The kettle whistles and Neville goes back to the food. He dishes it up and places a warming charm on them until Seamus comes back in from whatever he'd been doing to keep his farm going.

"I'd appreciate no magic in the house." It's said quietly but there's an edge to it. Neville can hear the fear, though, not just the anger.

"You love magic, though."

"It's not under discussion. No magic. None."

"Alright, it's your house."

That conversation sets the tone for the rest of the week. Neville slowly moves his belongings from the inn to Seamus's house, sleeping on the couch under the portrait of Dean. Seamus cooks and Neville watches. He's beyond bored, though, as he doesn't care for the telly and Finn's good company but he spends most of the time out in the fields. He's walked more in the past two weeks than he's walked for most of the rest of his life, he decides. There're walks through pastures or along hedgerows. There's the charming rock wall that he can't quite resist climbing; he balances himself on top, tiptoeing across the uneven stones. A couple of times, he almost loses his balance but a quick charm keeps him light on his feet.

They eat breakfast and dinner together with quick conversations. Neville always offers to help and Seamus always turns him down. They talk about Finn while Finn looks between them, almost as if the conversation's a tennis match and there's a ball volleying back and forth. They talk a lot about nothing at all and that bothers Neville. He wants to talk about Dean and the war and why Seamus is here and how he's doing and when he might want to come back and the magic and the fear and the longing and the way that Neville dreams about that kiss that didn't last more than a few seconds. Does Seamus still regret it or does he sometimes wonder what would've happened had Michael Corner not talked in his sleep? Would they have touched? Would they have deepened the kiss?

One afternoon as he's wandering the very edges of Seamus's property, a storm moves in so quickly that he has no opportunity to find any sort of safety. He casts a charm to keep himself dry and starts walking towards the house. Above the howling of the wind and the roar of the thunder, Neville could swear he hears shouting. Finn comes bounding over the field and knocks him down into the mud.

Neville curses lightly and pushes against the dog so he can get up and keep heading back in but the dog keeps a paw on his stomach. Seamus comes running after him, dripping wet and drenched to the bone from the cold rain. He looks beyond pissed and Neville wonders what it was that Finn did that would get that sort of reaction. It's only when Seamus hauls him off the ground like he weighs nothing and punches him full in the face that he realises that, possibly, Seamus is pissed at _him_ and not Finn.

"Where the fuck have you been?" Seamus shouts over the storm.

"Walking, like I do every day," he answers calmly and then realises that he isn't loud or close enough for Seamus to hear him. He stands up, rubbing his cheek, and then reiterates, "I was out walking. You didn't have to hit me."

"Fucking hell, Nev, it's the devil's own storm out here and you're out walking in it? Christ but do you have any sort of brains at all? Perhaps being dropped as a baby fucked you up more than you thought." Seamus looks like he's about to hit Neville again and so Neville puts his hands up in the air, warding off the blow.

"I'm perfectly fine and safe," he starts to say but doesn't get an opportunity to finish before Seamus's hands are fisted in his shirt and pulling him closer. Then they're kissing and it's all teeth and lip. There's heat and demand and anger and very little lust but Neville doesn't care as he shifts his hands to cup Seamus's face. At his touch, the kiss gentles, tongues touching and tasting. This is even better than his memory. There's nothing better than the way that the water's dripping off their noses and across their cheeks, running in rivulets from their drenched hair. There's nothing better and he can't resist moaning into Seamus's mouth, opening further and letting Seamus take what he needs because he needs to give this to him.

When they pull back, they're both panting and Neville's sure he's looking gobsmacked because that's exactly how he's feeling. Seamus looks confused and lost and then leans in, pressing his forehead to Neville's with his eyes closed. It's hard to focus when they're this close but Neville wants to see it all, wants to catologue it and explore it later.

"You could've been killed, you fucking gobshite," Seamus whispers and Neville can hear the words over the storm regardless of volume.

"I was safe enough."

"Not you, too, couldn't lose you, too. Don't do this again, please." It's the 'please' that has Neville agreeing.

"I'm sorry for worrying you. It came out of nowhere but I'll Apparate back next time, instead." Neville doesn't move his hands from Seamus's face, the skin soft and smooth under his palms. The wet hair clings to his fingers and he rubs them back and forth, feeling the way the hair clumps and drips.

Seamus doesn't answer, just steps closer and holds on to Neville. As the rain falls, they stay there in that field and Neville lets Seamus cling for as long as he needs. They hold tight, faces buried in necks, breathing in each other. It's a moment that's going to stay with Neville when he goes back to Hogwarts and his classes, this moment in the rain. It doesn't matter that he's starting to feel cold and the gooseflesh is prickling his skin.


	4. Chapter 4

As September first approaches like a speeding train, Seamus tries to pull back from Neville but it's nigh on impossible. After that kiss in the rain, Seamus isn't at all sure what he wants or where they're at or anything. All that he knows is that that gaping wound is healing over and he's not talking to Dean's portrait as much. There're still moments, though, when he knows that Neville's out roaming the fields, that he has a conversation with Dean.

"I'm not quite sure what's going on with us but I think you'd approve. You always liked Neville, especially that last year when we were separated. I still have your owls, you know. I look at 'em every once in awhile, trace your handwriting with my fingertip and it's almost like you're right there writing them to me. I have these pictures of you in m'head, the way you'd hunch up over the paper and scribble what you could and then post 'em. I know how dangerous it was for you to send me those letters and I never told you how much I appreciated them. Meant the world to me, they did." He looks up and stares at Dean while Dean stares out over his shoulder.

"They meant the world to me, too." Neville's voice comes from the doorway and Seamus looks over. "Always appreciated how you'd read them to me and let me know that he was alright. We spent so much time worrying over all of them that it was good to know that at least Dean was safe."

Neville crosses the room and stands next to Seamus. The tension's back between them and Seamus looks up at Dean and then looks over to Neville and then right back up at Dean again. If Dean were here, he'd be telling Seamus to reach out, touch Neville's hand or something, reach out and feel again, that he's too young to try to pull back from the world and become a hermit, that he has too much of his life to live. Seamus still hesitates, though, because it's only been two weeks and a few days and things are moving much too fast for him to adapt and cope and deal. He's used to the placid slowness of farming and country living. Things move at a slow pace and everyone's alright with that.

"You remember that one where he did the drawing of the two of us with our heads too big and our bodies too small? That one made me laugh for a good two weeks afterwards. Every once in awhile, I catch one of the students sketching in class and, last year, I think, I had one that did a similar drawing. He had my head all big and my body small. It was brilliant and made me think of Dean. I had to give him detention or something for not paying attention in class but when he showed up, I made him draw it again. I have it in my office." Neville looks up at Dean and Seamus can see the fondness in the expression. It's that fondness that allows Seamus to decide and he reaches out, his hand gripping Neville's. At the touch, Neville looks to Seamus and smiles. "I think he'd be alright with you feeling again. He hated when you held a grudge."

"Yeah, he did. Always telling me to move on, that life was too short to hold on to the past that way. Take the good, leave the bad and all that rubbish." Seamus is far too aware of Neville's hand shifting in his grip and then their fingers are entwined and it's one of the most innocent and erotic touches he's had in over three years. Their palms press together and the heat of the touch has a bit of sweat causing a slickness as their hands clench and ease.

"I have to leave soon. Classes start on the first and I have to be back a few days before to finalise my lesson plans."

"Yeah, figured. Finn'll miss you."

"He the only one?" Neville asks. Seamus can't say the words that he knows Neville wants. He's not ready. Instead, he reaches up and cups Neville's cheek before sliding his hand back and gripping the hair at the back of Neville's head. He leans in, so slowly, and as his eyes flutter shut, he sees Neville's own go wide and then their lips touch. It's a soft and gentle kiss, light brushes of lip against lip, but Seamus's stomach quivers all the same. It's beautifully poignant and Seamus hopes that the symbolism of the position - kissing there together while Dean looks on - doesn't escape Neville because he can't say it, can't say that he's wanting Neville to stay on, to move in and live in Ireland forever. They can stay here forever, the farm's enough for Seamus and he thinks it'll be enough for Neville if he'll just leave teaching behind. After all, there's plenty of opportunity for teaching in the village or at the next town over. With the way Nev can Apparate, there's nowhere in Ireland that he couldn't teach, really.

When he pulls back, he isn't at all sure if Neville knows just what he'd meant to say with his kiss or not. "Walk with me?"

"Alright."

~~**~~

The days blur for Neville. He enjoys his time on the farm but it's not enough. He misses Hogwarts, something that he hadn't ever thought possible. He misses the schedule, the rhythm and routine of it. Here on the farm, he's extraneous and, though there's a rhythm and routine here, as well, it's not enough.

They've taken to walking together in the evenings, hands entwined while Finn chases rabbits he has no intention of catching. It's peaceful and Neville appreciates it. The days pass and his departure looms overhead. Some days, it feels like a bird of prey hovering over him, waiting to descend and snatch this sort-of-happiness and serenity from him. Other days, it feels like a promise of escape from the sameness of the daily activities here in Ireland.

It's beautiful here and Neville feels it's a bit sacrilegious to not completely appreciate it all the time. He misses Scotland, though. He misses the meetings and Hogsmeade. He misses dinners with Harry, Ron, Hermione, Parvati, Lavender and Ginny.

He misses magic - the feel of it, the way that it permeates the air and energises him. Seamus still doesn't like it when he casts a spell or two. Whenever Neville tries to bring it up, Seamus only glares and goes to his room, shutting the door between them. That door's more than answer enough and Neville isn't sure that Seamus will ever get over this aversion to magic. It'd be easier to deal with the aversion if Seamus would just explain it. If Neville understood where it came from, he'd be able to help Seamus with it but if Seamus isn't willing to talk then there isn't much he can do.

They walk through the fields on the night before Neville plans on leaving. The silence is comfortable and also not, all at the same time. He knows, just knows, that Seamus is going to ask him to stay tonight. He'll have to turn him down and they'll have a row. He'll go back to Scotland with hard feelings between them, _again_ , whispers a small voice that sounds suspiciously like Dean.

"You'll visit?" He asks before Seamus can.

"I figured you weren't one for staying. Thought about asking you to stay but…" Neville knows what Seamus means.

"You can come visit, though. Isn't winter a slow time for farming? Remember Hogsmeade in the winter? George's jokeshop is there, now, instead of Zonko's. You'd like it. Or Honeyduke's?"

"There's loads to do on a farm in the winter. There're winter crops and the animals. The sheep ain't going to take care of themselves, yeah?" Neville can tell that they're just excuses but he leaves Seamus alone. He'd rather leave on a bright note than have it so that Seamus reverts back to the angry silence of the past three years.

"If I owl, will you send me something back?" When the silence stretches on, Neville stops walking and faces Seamus, keeping their hands entwined. "You don't have to, you know, but I'm going to miss you and I'd rather know that you're alright. I'd rather not go through the past three years again, if at all possible."

Eventually, Seamus nods and whispers, "Alright."

It's enough for now.

~~**~~

When the first owl arrives, Seamus shakes for a good twenty minutes. It's been so long since he had any sort of correspondence in this way. There's a letter and a package and a sodding bloody buggering _owl_ sitting on his kitchen table. Finn keeps barking at it and Seamus finally reaches a hand out, taking the delivery.

The letter is simple enough: Neville's arrived back at Hogwarts alright and he's looking forward to Seamus's letter back. The package has owl treats in it so that the bird won't get pissed and nip him. There's also a Honeyduke's bar and that has Seamus gaping. The last one he'd had, actually, was one that he shared with Dean just before leaving Hogwarts at the end of Sixth Year.

The owl and Finn watch him as he unwraps the owl treats. The owl takes the treat gently and Seamus ignores the candy as he flips Neville's letter over and pens a quick reply, thanking him for the letter and treats. He adds that everything on the farm's alright and that Finn misses their rambles.

After the owl's gone with the letter, Seamus stares at the candy on the table. He tries to ignore it, pretend that it isn't there. When he gives up on that course of action, he decides that he'll pretend that it's just a regular candy bar. Except when the taste of the chocolate melts on his tongue, there's no pretending it's anything but Honeyduke's. Nothing in the world tastes as good as this candy. It's even his favourite flavour, the one with loads of nuts and raisins with thick bitter chocolate smothering the lot.

He moans as he eats; it's just too good. Memories of shared chocolates and every flavour beans and chocolate frogs and countless other confections flit through his mind with each bite. There's barely a pang at these memories -- they're just too happy.

"Dean, you should taste this chocolate. Christ but it's amazing. I'd forgotten how good it really was. You think Nev's courting me with candy? Or you think he's just trying to tempt me back over there?" He asks the empty air and though there's no one around, he swears he can hear the answer, _courting, you silly sod, he's falling in love with you just like you've fallen for him._

He stops chewing abruptly. He doesn't love Neville. There wasn't enough time for it, not with the way he spent their time working on the farm and barely having a moment to spare for Nev. Even if they did spend their evenings walking every inch of the farm, holding hands like teenagers walking to Madame Puddifoot's. And the looks over dinner, the soft kisses at night before separating for bed... none of that matters because it doesn't mean that he's in love with Neville.

_Yes, it does_ , comes the voice again and it sounds just like Dean.

"What the fuck you'd know about it anyway?"

_Remember that first kiss? The way you kept touching the back of my hand until I pulled you in and kissed you? The way that we walked along the river Shannon and kept stealing kisses, little brushes of lips like you do with Neville? You remember how it took you forever to admit that you loved me when I told you right away? Remember?_

"But what if…"

He doesn't get to finish before Dean responds, _What if nothing. What if you get caught in your tractor and killed? What if you freeze to death? What if Cromwell comes back from the dead? What if a thousand things, Seamus. Live your life in fear of the what-ifs and you'll be just as lonely as you've been these past years. You want only a ghost of memory to keep you company? You're so stubborn but I wish you wouldn't be right now. Live, please?_

Seamus puts his head down on his arms on the wood of his table and sobs like a child. Wind flits through the open window and catches a chime, sending music through the air. Dean had always said that chimes were like the voices of the dead, singing to the living one last song and Seamus only cries harder. Finn licks at his arms and hands before moving to his ear. He whines and cries, too, nudging at Seamus's knees or pushing against his shoulder.

After he cries himself out, he goes to that dresser and pulls out his wand. It feels awkward after all these years and he shakes as he grips it.

" _Wingardium Leviosa_ ," he casts at a small vase. It wobbles and shakes and then eventually lifts into the air. It's a simple charm but he can still remember learning it and having the feather explode in his face. The vase dances and then Seamus lowers it back again.

If he can do this, then maybe…

~~**~~

"Hannah? Oh dear, Hannah, you really have to keep up with your earmuffs." Neville hurries over to the collapsed second year Hufflepuff and clamps on a spare pair of earmuffs. The girl's mandrake continues screaming and he orders another student to quickly repot it before it can hurt anyone else.

When he looks up, he sees Seamus standing in the doorway. There's a half-smile on his face but the uncertainty carries through more than the happiness and Neville forgets to continue fanning the girl's face as they stare at one another.

"Professor Longbottom?"

"Yes?" He asks without breaking the gaze, taking in how different Seamus looks out of his farmer's clothing. _He looks taller_. It's such an incongruous thought.

"Do you think Hannah should go up to Madam Pomfrey?"

"She'll be fine. Ask Professor Longbottom about his own experiences with mandrakes, if you don't believe me." Seamus walks into the greenhouse and addresses the student.

"Who're you?" The rest of the class looks up at Seamus and he smiles back.

"Just a friend of the professor's. Thought I'd stop by and see him in his element." Seamus looks at Neville again and there are so many questions Neville wants to ask but they're all tripping over each other in his head and he can't figure out what one to start with. There's why're you here? And then there's how'd you get here? And another and another and another and they're all overridden with the thought of _there you are_ ; he can't open his mouth for fear that gibberish will come out.

Thankfully, the class ends and the students filter out. When they're gone, Seamus says, "I can go, if'n you're wanting."

"Just, just stay here and I'll be right back. I've a free period but I have to take Hannah to Poppy."

"Alright."

When Neville stands with Hannah in his arms, he can't help but lean in to Seamus and breathe deeply. Here in the midst of the greenhouse and the myriad swirl of scents of greenery, Seamus smells just like Seamus - farm and crops and sheep.

"Stay here, I'll be back," he promises again and Seamus smiles as he shakes his head at Neville's nervousness.

He brushes past Seamus and hurries in to the castle, barely resisting the urge to steal a couple of glances back to ensure that Seamus really is staying there. He curses himself for the doubt. After all, Seamus did come all this way. He wouldn't do that just for a quick look and then leave again. It's too long of a journey, too much hassle with the farm and Finn. Neville wonders who's taking care of the farm while he climbs the steps. His mind's on the way that Seamus gave that half-smile while Poppy takes the girl from him and he explains what happened. It happens to someone every year, after all, it's easy enough.

He can continue thinking about their last kiss and the way that Seamus's mouth had opened and closed, as if he wanted to ask something but wouldn't. Maybe he'd wanted to say something, something wondrous instead of the _Safe Apparition_ that he left it with. Neville presses his knuckle against his lips as he hurries back down the stairs. His afternoon is free and Seamus's timing is perfect. Had he arrived any other day of the week, Neville would be stuck in classes. As it was, he'd be able to spend the rest of the day together.

He'd missed Seamus so much, more than he'd thought he might. Their owls had been so awkward that it was hard to know exactly how Seamus was doing or if he missed Neville half as much as Neville had missed Seamus. _It was only a few weeks, it's not like there was time for anything else_ , that voice of self-doubt that sounds so much like Severus Snape whispers and he pauses there on the steps.

Dean's voice chimes in, though, saying, _He came all the way from Ireland, he's here and that was his wand in his pocket, wasn't it?_

Neville hurries the rest of the way, almost running. He's glad that he's kept up with the walking because he's not even out of breath when he arrives back at the greenhouse, only to see that Seamus is nowhere in sight.

"Seamus?" he calls out. There's no answer and that disparaging voice laughs at him. "Seamus, you in here?"

He wanders around, in between the towering ferns and vines that hang down from the ceiling. There's still no answer and he starts to wonder if maybe he'd imagined Seamus's presence. He sits at the desk he keeps in a corner. When arms swing around him, he screeches like a first year and then hears Seamus laughing at him.

"Thought I'd left, hadn't you?" Seamus's breath is warm against his ear. "Think I came all this way to see you comforting a second year - you do still teach mandrakes to Second Years, don't you?"

"Yeah, they're standard, even without the basilisk problems." Neville gives a stuttering laugh and leans, Seamus's chest hard against his back.

"Can't get rid of me that easily. That is, though, if you want, I can come back later or something. Got a room in town but couldn't resist coming up here and surprising you. Should've thought about classes and such. I can go if you need me to. I'll just be down in Hogsmeade or something."

Seamus starts to pull back but Neville clamps his hands tight against Seamus's arms, holding them against his chest. "Don't go. I've the rest of the afternoon free. Your timing's excellent."

"Course it is, I'm bloody Seamus Finnigan, o'course." There's a hint to the cockiness that had been so characteristic of Seamus back in school and Neville smiles fondly as he tips his head back and then kisses the jawline.

"Of course," Neville meant to say more but Seamus shifts and then they're kissing like they haven't had months apart, like they're not in a greenhouse in the beginning of winter, surrounded by snow and ice outside. In here, though, the warming charms keep everything just right and there are so many scents and sensations that Neville is intoxicated.

It goes on and on - all lips and tongue and teeth - until they finally pull back to catch a breath. "How long you staying?"

"Frankie McCormack's watching things for a week or so. Best I could do, unfortunately." Seamus sounds disappointed that his time is so short and that warms Neville even more.

"Week's more than I thought I'd get so I'll take it. I'm glad you're here," he says as he reaches a hand up and cups Seamus's cheek. "I'm really glad you're here."

"Yeah?" Seamus looks too serious.

"Yeah," he reassures and then tries to lighten the mood, "Where's Finn? I would've thought since he missed me so much that he'd be here, too."

"You do know when I said Finn missed you, I meant that I missed you, right?"

"Of course, I'm just teasing you."

"Oh, so now you're a tease, Professor Longbottom? You'll be doing lines for detention for your cheek." Seamus leans in and sucks in Neville's lower lip before releasing it. "Sorry I didn't send notice in advance. Wanted to surprise you as a bit of an early Christmas pressie."

"Best present ever." He means it so much that he can't help but kiss Seamus again. "Thanks."

"So give me the tour, show me where things have changed. Where's your digs, Professor, sir, Professor." Seamus salutes and Neville laughs at the sarcastic gesture.

"Come on, I've something to show you, first." Neville stands and grabs Seamus's hand, tugging him from the greenhouse. Seamus hesitates though. "What?"

"Shouldn't be holding hands on school grounds. What would the Headmaster say?"

"Oh, who cares? Come on, this is important." Neville keeps their hands firmly entwined and they head down towards the lake. There, next to the white tomb of Dumbledore, there's a large monument erected. On it are the names of the dead. Seamus pulls away and Neville lets him.

Neville watches as Seamus traces the lines and the letters of the names. When Dean's name is under his fingers, Neville finally touches Seamus again, putting his hand on Seamus's shoulder.

"He'd like this, I think, here with all the rest, no more important and no less, either. He was always one for making sure that everyone got credit for what they did. I think he'd be happy next to Colin. Those two would go on and on about making things move, the photographs and the portraits. Drove me barmy, it did, couldn't get 'em to shut their gobs about it, though." Seamus's hand comes to rest on top of Neville's. "I'm still talking to him. I should tell you that before you think things that aren't there. He's not ever going to go away, I don't think. So if you can't be dealing with it, then you should tell me now."

"I hear his voice in my head, too, you know. He's sort of like an encouraging voice, just like those owls he'd send you that last year. I'm fine with him being there as long as you don't hold me accountable for his death any more. I don't think I'd be too happy if you blamed me for it, if we had that between us."

Seamus turns and holds Neville close. "Don't blame anyone but Dolohov anymore. You made me realise that he had a choice and I was doing him a disservice by blaming others for not protecting him. He was capable of it, dammit, and I needed to remember that."

"I'm glad," he whispers against Seamus's neck. A slight breeze picks up and there's a tinkling noise. "Windchimes."

"Dean'd like that."

"Yeah." Another whisper and they stay there, standing with arms around each other as snow starts to fall. Before Neville can pull his wand out, Seamus has his in hand and they're dry and protected.

"Seamus? You have something to tell me?"

"It was the Honeyduke's. Shook like a baby the first time I cast but it got easier after that. Everything started coming back and that's from you. You're more of a hero than you thought, what with accomplishing that." Seamus's laugh is a bit watery and Neville ignores that watery bit except to tighten his embrace.

"I'm so glad you're here, so glad."

"Glad I'm here, too."


End file.
